


Two-Thousand Years of Being in Love

by Valgus



Series: Words of Nations [12]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 03:51:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4206900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valgus/pseuds/Valgus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holy Rome was back from war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two-Thousand Years of Being in Love

Feliciano woke up to dirty, cold floor and the smell of ashes on his nose. His whole body was aching and sitting up earned him a very long groan of pain. The sunlight had peeked from the broken glass of broken window, painting the muddy floor and broken furniture.

“Good morning,” the auburn-haired nation said to nobody and raised.

Through fallen cupboard and bookshelf, he made his way to the kitchen. Rust and green mold had made their way into the room, invading everywhere from sink to battered table. Feliciano washed his face, smiling to the cracked reflection of his face on smashed mirror on the wall. 

He opened the window to empty, cracked street. He stared to trees and grasses growing wildly, to nature invading back into what once was where human lived.

It was year 2916 and the world war had ended everything.

Hundreds and hundreds years ago, Feliciano had to go to war of the world. Even short experience of it was severely painful. But this war had gone for too long. Human had dried their wallet and well just to kill each other. Soon, the world fell into ruin—ruin rained with blood. Blood everywhere. Blood on the roof. Blood on the wall. Blood on the street. Blood on the well. Blood.

Blood.

As a nation, Feliciano had to see his government fell after his people did. With no land to rule, no people to govern, and nothing to go on, he had no idea why he was still around. He knew that some of his kinds were still around, but he couldn’t care. He thought of things; he thought what America did to Japan at the end of World War II was horrible. But World War II hadn’t seen this war. The measure that people go just to hurt others was so insane that Feliciano knew he had cried himself dry he couldn’t cry anymore for the rest of his existence.

‘In war, people will do the most unbelievable thing.’

Feliciano knew it was true, though he no longer knew who said or wrote that. Sometimes, when he had to take action for his people, he didn’t know whether what he did was because he was a nation… or a monster.

He stared at the blue sky upon Rome.

It was a beautiful day.

It was a beautiful day to die.

*)*

How did nation die? How did nation born? Where did nation go after they perish? Feliciano knew no answer to this, but he knew that the spirit the people of Italy had for a very long time had vanished.

His whole body was hard and aching. Even lifting a finger was as hard as rock. Returning to the spot where he slept, where he could watch the dance of sunlight didn’t do him good at all.

Perhaps, it was time.

It was time to leave.

Feliciano slowly closed his eyes. He was in so much pain, but strangely, he was at ease. The sun had set on the horizon, panting the dirty floor with beautiful shade of red. 

_Blood sky,_ Feliciano thought, and he fell asleep.

*)*

He woke up to grass tickling his nose and to smell of spring flowers flooding inside him. His honey-coloured eyes blinked. All he could see was green and blue. And it was warm. It was so warm and comfortable that his body ached again in the best way possible.

He shifted his position to sitting. It was not painful. Feliciano smiled to his fingers, moving them freely as he started to touch his face and leg. There was no pain. There was only lightness.

The sun was shining in the scarcely cloudy blue sky. The sun was shining to the grasses and flowers.

Feliciano had no idea what kind of meadow he was in, but he didn’t care. He was so tired of bombed-down town and dried blood everywhere. He stood up and roared, “Pasta!”

His voice was echoed by the wind. Feliciano roared an incoherent sound before started running down the meadow, down the hill to the seemingly endless spread of flowers and grasses.

He let himself rolled down at some point. Feliciano landed face first to the warm, soft grass and earth, where he smiled and laughed. He closed his eyes again, lying there for God knows how long. 

The warmth, the smell of flower, the wind, and the beautiful sky—they were all like a dream. Maybe he was indeed dreaming. But who care if he was? Feliciano certainly didn’t care.

He slowly pulled his body to sitting position. A shadow was covering the land he just lied on. Feliciano raised his head to see what created the shadow.

A grown man stood there. He was dressed in a long, dark coat that was played by the wind. Contrasted with his night-coloured clothing, he was pale. His skin was pale. His hair was pale gold. His eyes were pale blue. He looked down at Feliciano. His eyebrows were wrinkling and he glared to the sitting nation.

“Ciao,” Feliciano waved and smiled. He was too happy to feel even feel slightly intimidated by the stranger’s sudden presence.

“Italy,” the standing man spoke. His voice was no louder than a slight whisper.

Feliciano stared back at those blue eyes.

The man knelt down, arms and hands open, just like his blooming smile. “I’m back.”

Feliciano immediate response was, “From where?”

But then, it all came back to him; the long war and the boy who told him that they would see each other again after the war.

“Holy… Rome?” the words escaped his mouth like Feliciano wasn’t the one who say it.

Holy Roman Empire laughed, “Yes! Yes, it’s me!” But then he started to laugh and cry at the same time and Feliciano lunged into his open arms—into his embrace.

The next thing Feliciano knew, he was wailing like a little baby; he was screaming and crying so loudly that his throat hurt, his eyes hurt, his entire body hurt. He hugged Holy Rome so tightly he was surprised the other country didn’t split into two. There was so much pain—so much happiness and so many tears too.

“You’re back! You’re back—oh God, you’re back… you fulfilled your promise to me… you’re back… oh God, you’re back—you’re here with me… you’re _back_.” Feliciano sobbed into a mess and he sobbed and sobbed.

Holy Rome was back from war.

And there was nothing else Feliciano Vargas would ever need.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty sure someone had done this, but I want to write my version.
> 
> They deserve this. They deserve to be happy and to meet again.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
